Every Good Boy Does Fine Always
Updated: Nov 19, 2022
This one was hard. And I cried the whole time I wrote it. I have an ability to put myself into time and place and feeling -- and drive down that emotional coastal highway. And I tremble, and I shake, and write through my tears.
And then, when I'm done, I resume my normal cruising altitude and don't really think about it much. Because I'm whole now--or mostly so. And I stopped caring about my past and I'm only looking forward.
This one is delicate and I wondered if I should post it. But Mr. W's secret isn't mine. And it was forced on me without age-18 consent. So I have no problem posting this and possibly outing him.

In middle school
choir was one thing that I loved
and enjoyed
and took meaning from
and that uptight choir director
lined us up
in front of everyone
because he was pissed off that some of the boys weren’t respecting him
so he set up the firing squad for all the us
and said if the notes weren’t perfect
he would show us the door
he shot my trembling voice down
picked me and kicked me
out
took the music away from me
and my voice
became even more timid
sorry Mike B that I didn’t hunt or fish or like trucks
or believe in the cult you were sucked into
when you saw that accident at your mom’s house
and while you sang
practiced that guitar you’d never learn to play
how nice would it have been
to perhaps sing together
that would have made our relationship better
instead bitter
so when we moved
I was so happy to join the choir
where my new best friend was a star
in my new school
in the park
by the forest
a place to belong
the great one was his own tyrant
getting the most from us that he could
we were a damn good reflection of his talent
and passion
even if he screamed now and then
and slammed the piano
we would do anything to make him happy
my voice was good
but not great
punctuated by the previously mentioned firing squad
because singing solo
always made me nervous
and I didn’t want to get shot down again
I completely failing the audition for the elite
practicing piano man over and over
without a piano
I mumbled and stammered
again trembled
in front of everyone
feeling the white hot pain of embarrassment
and self humiliation
at my complete performance failure
I was surprised later that week
when you called my name
the last one called
as one of those who made it
to the surprise of everyone
including me
I saw the knowing glances
how did he make it in?
and while glad I did
I knew that I did not deserve it
you let me in because you wanted me there
someone better left behind
licking that wound even today?
my therapist told me
in my first session
that I was always an outsider
looking in
with no one to play with
across seven schools, two continents,
and apartments that had seen better days
In a part of town I am nervous to go to
when I take my children to see how good their life is
And he said I did what I did because I wanted to belong
going to church
hiding myself
not accepting myself
I wanted to belong
to something
to someone
my mother loved me
and loves me still
as I do her
but she could not be there
catering to the soul draining helpless lich
the previously mentioned Mike B
who only cared about planting those fucking trees
I wonder how much better our lives would have been
had she kissed David while I was looking down
from my second story window in 4G
and taken the path of her happiness
instead of caving to the whines of a craven man
so when you made your jokes
and reigned your terror
I wanted to be around you
given how shitty my fathers step and absent were
you were the first man
I had ever met who had passion
I liked the innuendos spoken in that choir room
I liked it
a lot
because it is how I think
able to sexualize almost any response
even if I’m being slightly inappropriate
so when you shined your light toward me
it made me feel
something
everywhere
Every
where
down
there
but especially my yearning heart
looking for connection
and warmth
like a child
for his lammy
it never occurred to me that I might
have been born a different way
that was another 40 year delay
only recently realizing I was sort of gay
Guinness World Record holder in denial
having taken all the classes I could
months from graduation
I was your aide
with you
an hour a day
putting music in folders
and other busy work
and endless conversation
in your little office in the corner
amongst the painted history of shows
like Camelot and South Pacific
(Note: I even loved show tunes - and I still didn’t know I was gay)
after 2 1/2 years of wondering
and stuck in my fantasizing mind
you asked me about...
masturbation
and how you loved it
I said yes me too
I’m 17 it’s what we do
and then you asked me
as if asking 'have you ever been to Spain?'
If I had ever put my penis between the mattress to fuck it
after a pause
third trimester pause
I said yes
I had
I’m 17 I’d fuck anything
I’m not ashamed to say it
and we looked at each other
and at that moment
with a tingle in my fingers
and a tingle in my feet
and a tingle in my meat
I would have let you do anything
I wanted you to do anything
every
thing
down
there
both of us paralyzed in that moment
looking to fill the holes in our life
the one not touched my your wife
by a means too taboo to mention
drawing out all other means of attention
three years before nineteen-eighty seven
that moment passed
because I could not have made the first move
so I give you some credit
but I don’t think you wife would approve
over time I remembered you with fondness
pleased to chat with you
and thought about meeting the singing throng
the reunion you organized every few years
a few weeks ago
when my therapist asked if there were any other positive male role models in my life
I remembered you
I said, "oh I had a great teacher"
his name was…
and I paused
I cried
and died
a bit inside
The rhythm of life is indeed a powerful beat
And I left my thought incomplete
realizing I was being groomed
by a man too afraid to accept
who and what he is
and too afraid to take what he wanted
because in that moment
it was his
why is it so hard for me to feel anger to those that harmed me?
why do I still admire them?
today I am no longer an errant minstrel
no longer blithe heart and mind
and I have become whole
no emotional holes left to fill
yet physical ones still
and when I see him today
throwing his supply side jesus bullshit around
and talking about how great God is
and how this country needs to get on its knees to prayer
you know what my mind's eye sees
when I write knees
yes please
I feel sad
but its the adoration of our aging lost young voices
under his care
that makes me angry and upset
because who else sat in my chair
under his lecherous stare?
invited to his sexual dare
I remember that had I gotten on my knees
and accepted your swelling song
shown you the promised land
and made you cry out to your God
I feel pity
because I know you could have been such a better man
if you had only stepped into the light of authenticity
perhaps that callous indifference you have today
wouldn’t be in conflict with the songs on the organ that you play
organ play
so I am now flipping my wings and flying up high
like a bird flying up in the sky
just like you taught us to sing
and I literally feel the rhythm of life
and it is indeed a powerful beat
and I have a new sensation
and my own growing congregation
this month my voice came back
and I sing without caring
and the warble is gone
and I hit notes long lost
and I feel the rhythm of the street
and I can now harmonize as well
the shitty men in my life
no longer have power over me
and this good boy is doing fine
most of the time, but not always